


and now you are and I am now

by llien



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Anger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, He's so hurt, M/M, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Psychological Trauma, Riku/Sora - Freeform, Roxas loves Sora but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 10:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18467383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llien/pseuds/llien
Summary: “and now you are and i am now and we’rea mystery which will never happen again,”Roxas has a score to settle with Riku, and he knows the best way to get even.After all, the only way to get to Riku is through Sora.





	and now you are and I am now

**Author's Note:**

> In this house we love gray morality. I play a lot with the meaning of Sora's name, ascribing it to his personality at times. Have fun looking for it. There's a lot of fire and water imagery too, courtesy of Axel and Xion. 
> 
> Or basically, the fic where their namesakes mean much more.

Roxas gasped awake, heart racing as if it was trying to claw its way free of his chest. His lungs ached with the memory of suffocation, and he gripped at his bedsheets.

It was raining, Roxas dimly realized, trying to calm himself down. Every time it rained, Roxas felt like all the oxygen was being coyly drawn out from him, methodically, cruelly, kindly. Siphoned from him until fire licked up his bones and burnt them black, until his lungs collapsed into bleeding remains.

Just the memory made him gasp wretchedly, crawling up from bed to curl in on himself, twisting the sheets in his fists as he hunched over, knees under him. Tears smarted in his eyes, and he buried his face into the bed, willing the hyperventilation away, begging himself to be quiet, so no one could hear.

It took several long minutes for him to finally relax, but his cheeks were wet and anger had risen from the fire, molten with vengeance and injustice.

It wasn’t fair.

None of it was, had been, would ever be, and Roxas was not the only one, hell he wasn’t even the worst off.

He loved Sora, he did, he did, he did, he’d die for Sora, had died for Sora, would never regret giving himself to Sora, his other, his friend, his guiding light, but—

He slowly sat straight, catching the tears with the underside of his bare wrist, eyes unseeing as he stared at the steady track of rain on his windows.

—the nightmares wouldn’t stop, the fear wouldn’t go away, the rain kept stealing his breath from him.

With the familiarity of too many nights gone by, Roxas drew his knees up and settled his arms across them, pillowing his head as he watched the rain and thought of the way fire danced on waves, when promises were kept and he’d embraced a full heart.

Another tear slipped down his cheek, dripping to his neck, and it made Roxas realize that perhaps sadness didn’t go away just because the sunshine was sometimes there.

In the same way, he thought, fire did not smolder out until you buried it in the ground, choking the air from it.

 

Roxas never hesitated once he’d decided on something. Sora didn’t question his stormy demeanor when he showed up, but Roxas knew he’d noticed. It was easy to miss with Sora, his casual attentive nature. Sora paid much more attention to others than he did himself, as if _he_ did not exist, without the shape of another to guide to him.

Roxas figured it was vestigial remains of having been a part of Sora, understanding him in ways Sora himself probably wasn’t aware of.

“So,” Sora said, tongue curling blue around the ice cream Roxas had bought. He gestured with his popsicle carelessly, as if the half eaten ice wouldn’t slide off at any moment. The sun was blistering as always, and sea salt had already melted its way onto Roxas’ skin and surely Sora’s. The sunscreen Sora had insisted on felt clammy on his palms, but the seabreeze through his hair was nice as they meandered’ down Destiny Islands’ boardwalk. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” technically, Roxas meant, “I just wanted to talk about something.”

“Yeah?” Sora grinned. He’d grown more tanned and freckled, and his eyes were invigorating. He looked like he’d burst into a cartwheel at any second, loping beside Roxas’ easy gait. Everything about Sora felt like summer. He caught a bit of his ice cream about to fall with his teeth, laughing when it fell apart instantly. Roxas’ own popsicle had been eaten more quickly than he’d intended, unused to how the humid heat might melt ice cream faster.

“Well,” Roxas hedged, licking his lips. The rings on his fingers were stained, rough with dried sugar, and he rubbed at the texture with his thumb. The boardwalk was mostly empty, most everyone indoors enjoying lunch or on the beach itself. Seagulls cried overhead and laughter was on the distance with the horizon of water, beach umbrellas flapping in the breeze. He could smell sweet syrup, hot dogs, popcorn, even more delights Roxas had no name for yet.

Sora was guiding them down the boardwalk, where the beach ended and the road delved towards the dense brush and woods that surrounded most of the islands as it fell into suburbs and homes and less commercial trade and business.

Sora’s casual thoughtful nature, almost accidental in how he performed it, warmed Roxas’ heart.

Roxas never hesitated, but hurting Sora was antithetical to his own nature.

“It’s about Riku,” Roxas blurted.

Sora missed a step but he was so in-tune with own body that he easily recovered. He ate more of his popsicle. “Yeah?” He encouraged.

Roxas lifted his ring to his mouth and tasted it. Sunscreen, repulsive, metal, acrid, sugar on top it all. Gritty with sand. “About that year you were asleep.”

“Oh,” Sora replied, distant. He was closing himself off, something Sora rarely, if ever, did. It was as if he knew what Roxas’ was going to say before he said it.

The sun was burning him, baking his hair, searing his skin, blinding his eyes. Roxas felt almost dizzy under its’ exposure. “Do you know how you came back?”

Sora slid the popsicle stick entirely between his lips so that it was clean. He held it up, squinting one eye closed, angling the wooden bit in a purposeful way. “Well, Namine fixed my memories and I woke up.”

Roxas absorbed this information. Like lightning bursting from the ground to surge into the sky, anger lit him up, flashed like a heat wave, dizzying him. Sora didn’t know _anything._

Not of Xion’s light-filled final embrace, or Axel’s tears, or Riku’s repentant blindness. He stood beside Roxas, blissfully ignorant of the pain that wouldn’t let go, no matter how many tears he cried.

He struggled to wrap his anger together, squeezing his eyes shut and staggering as he lost his balance. He tried to grab hold of the anger with his hands, to ball it together and condense it inside himself. It wasn’t Sora’s fault. Nobody had told him.

He opened his eyes, blinded by the rays of sun.

Sora was far more perceptive than most people gave him credit for. It was how he bonded so quickly and easily with others, eager to belong. They stepped onto a red-colored path that wove through the woods, and finally the sun fell away to shade.

The further they trailed into the tropical wood, the quieter it grew. Birds sung but the voices of people were muted, and the path underfoot was made by wood chips and trampled grass, either purposefully or not. The sun had died down now to dappled freckles on their skin.

“I kinda thought,” Sora spoke up, startling Roxas. “That I didn’t know anything. I was scared to ask. It’s like, every time I learn something new, it’s never good news.” Sora glanced over his shoulder at Roxas, and gone was the summer, the stars in their sky, the boy who flew on delight and belief alone. Here was Sora, an emptied vessel carved hollow by careless hearts and greedy fingers scrabbling at him from the inside out. He offered Roxas the smallest, kindest, most heartbreaking smile. “I’m a coward. Running away from the truth like that… being too scared to ask.”

He faced forward again, as if recognizing he’d stricken Roxas mute. Roxas knew what he was going to do to Sora, knew he was going to hurt him deeply, knew he was slicing his own hands to shreds by purposefully driving the wedge into Sora’s and Riku’s relationship.

But more than his love, more than his resignation, more than his nightmares and fears and strength, more than all of that was his anger.

His summers would always be tainted by the first he’d ever had.

“I wanted to ask,” Sora continued. He walked onwards, undeterred, though Roxas didn’t know where the path led. He was following him, like it felt he always had. “I do, I swear. But it’s like… I miss this. Not knowing. Being normal.” He laughed. “That’s a lame excuse, I know. Master Yen Sid wouldn’t like it.”

Everyone knew Yen Sid was the hardest on Sora.

“I feel horrible about it,” Sora lifted his hand, blunt nails and calloused palms, teeny scars from countless clashes hidden under sun-kissed skin. He cupped his heart, a thoughtless habitual action Roxas had seen numerous times now. “I think… it’s like if I don’t know, I’m acting like it never happened. And that’s not right. Denying that…”

He sighed. Roxas felt his eyes smarting. Mourning, he realized. Mourning the Sora that used to be here, in these woods, on these islands, sun-kissed and blue eyed and full of laughter. Roxas was going to add another scar to the many Sora now bore.

Sora knew this, Roxas was sure. Still, he stepped out into the light as the woods broke away onto a beach completely empty, a cove in the distance whistling with music.

He met Roxas eyes with a rueful, resigned smile. “But I’m ready now, so… thank you, Roxas.”

“Don’t thank me,” Roxas grit out, grimacing. “It’s not fair you don’t know, but I’m not doing it just to help you.”

Sora considered this, and the only sound between them for a long while was the sand shifting under their sandles and the breaking waves. This abandoned beach was long, long enough to last their entire conversation, probably. The waves here were rougher, too dangerous to swim in for children.

“That’s okay,” Sora said at long last. “I kinda owe you anyways.” He purposely stepped further ahead, so that Roxas followed directly behind him, and folded his arms behind his head. “Tell me what happened.”

So Roxas did.

In steady, methodical, cruel, kind words, Roxas told him about his almost-year with the Organization, of Axel’s resurrected heart, of Xion’s purpose, of her kindness, of the shells plucked from the sand they walked on, of the break in Sora’s restoration, of Riku’s sadness.

He told Sora how even when he was taking their lives from them, Riku had not been unkind.

He told Sora of his only summer vacation.

He told Sora everything he deserved to know, because Roxas knew what it was like to not know the most important things about yourself.

Sora was quiet. It was so out of character it made Roxas’ stomach sink, but he followed Riku’s cue, and continued anyways, until there was nothing left to say. His mouth was dry, unused to talking for such long lengths of time. At some point, Sora’s hands had fallen to his side, popsicle stick forgotten between his fingers. They’d spanned almost the entire length of the beach.

“I wanted to tell you,” Roxas said, lips trembling, jaw aching, “because it’s not fair that you don’t know.”

Sora stopped, sand piling at the tips of his feet, and he slowly turned.

He was crying, big tears that spilled soundlessly to land on his collarbone.

Roxas was shaking his head before he’d realized it, stumbling to Sora and grabbing his arms. “I didn’t wanna hurt you,” he whispered. At that, Sora’s face crumbled, and Roxas grew alarmed. “I didn’t, but all I could think of was how I felt, not knowing anything, and how I _feel,_ knowing everything. I’m sorry,” he said. With agonizing slowness, he lurched forward into Sora, face burrowed into his shoulder. “I know how much you’ve hurted. I felt it, even when you wouldn’t cry.”

Sora brought his arms up and around Roxas, embracing him, and Roxas’ eyes grew wide, before he squeezed them tight, snaking his arms around Sora.

“It’s okay,” Sora murmured, rubbing Roxas’ back, “it’s alright.” He rested his cheek against Roxas’ hair, and he could feel the damp begin where Sora’s tears hadn’t stopped. “It’s not your fault. I remember how much it hurt you, too.”

“I’m so angry,” Roxas whispered, buried into Sora’s shirt. “Sometimes I wake up and it’s like I’m burning alive with it, like I can’t do anything but scream. I don’t know how to not be angry. I don’t wanna be angry.” It was such a childish, small admission. _I don’t wanna be sad. I don’t want this to be me. I never asked for this._

_I never wanted to become this._

“I’m tired,” Sora whispered back. “I can’t sleep, sometimes. I’m afraid to.”

Somehow, Sora’s own tiny confession eased the rage in Roxas. He wasn’t alone. It wasn’t the same, no, but it couldn’t ever possibly be the same. But they were similar, torn apart and put back together and taken away again, edges ravaged.

Sora tugged at Roxas until he eased back, and then knocked their foreheads together gently. All Roxas could see was Sora’s shadowed blue eyes, shiny from tears but clear. “Thanks, Roxas. You’re a good other, too.”

Roxas couldn’t help a short watery laugh, and the movement swayed them back and forth. _You’re welcome,_ was too cruel, and _I’m sorry_ wasn’t enough.

“No matter what,” Roxas said, “I won’t lie to you. I’ll always be on your side, Sora.”

Like the sun breaking free of the clouds, happiness crested the sadness, bloomed on Sora’s face, was breathtaking. Roxas grinned back at Sora’s smile. From now on, there’d be no more secrets or terrible hidden misdeeds. They’d be side by side, and have each other’s backs.

Maybe now Roxas could stop fearing the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> Roxas is just a kid you know, alive for barely a year. 
> 
> There's some metaphors/symbolism here, with the rain hiding the sun, but that's for you all to delve into and enjoy.
> 
> May be continued with Sora confronting Riku. It's complicated, because truly Riku didn't want to hurt Xion or Roxas, but he also would do anything to keep Sora alive. How's Sora to feel about that, anger at the sacrifice of others, sorrow at the loneliness that'd driven Riku, frustration at his own weakness? There's so much to unpack. Maybe I'll write a sequel detailing that. 
> 
> Twitter | _oathbreaker


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